Beneath her Wings
by Kendra 'Kai' Barton
Summary: What would have happened if Sansa had left Kings Landing with The Hound. This is my version of that scenario. Warning for violence, language, and sexual content. San/San romance.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors note: This story is based on the idea of what could have happened if Sansa had left Kings Landing with Sandor Clegane at Blackwater. This is a story of romance, darkness, tragedy, and a touch of smut. I know a lot of people were disappointed by the finale of GOT, as was I. And so this is based more in the book-verse rather than the show verse and so there will be some direct quotes from the second book, "A Clash of Kings" In the first chapter of this tale. I hope you all enjoy the story and please leave a review! **

**Warning: Foul language, extreme violence, and sexual violence and content. Reader discretion is advised. **

**Chapter One: The dog breaks the lock. **

_**Sandor**_

Fire and blood filled the air that dark night, it was impossible to escape. The shouts and dinn of the battle waging outside echoed through the dark, deserted halls of the red keep. Smoke filled the air, choking and suffocating everything that had the audacity to breathe. _It's souring the wine…_ Clegane thought bitterly as he sat alone in the castle cellar, his third flagon of wine in his hand. The blood dripped down his face from the wound he had received on his head, the deep gash in his shoulder ached, but that didn't matter now. Blood he could handle, but the fire. That sickly green fire that had been surrounding him, setting people ablaze before him, igniting memories he would prefer to keep locked down in his mind.

_I want to fuck…._ He scowled as he drained the bottom if his wine and tossed it to the side, hearing a crash as the container shattered against the wall with the others. He wanted anything to take his mind off of the fire. He had very little, in terms of pride, but he had already tossed away what he had managed to hold on to. "Craven" they would call him, fleeing a battle, fleeing the fire. He stared at nothing, the wine racing through his head, making him think of things he had not dared to ponder before.

_No whores will be able to night. They'll be hiding, or being used by other deserters. One last shag before the end. But…._ His mind thought of red hair. The image of the Stark girl, of the Little Bird, came to his mind. She was beautiful, and he had watched her blossom into a woman over the time she had been trapped in her cage. _And she's a real woman now, having flowered…_ He closed his eyes as he picked up another drink. She was so different than the other women of Kings Landing. She was still scared of him, everyone was so that was no shock, but she was kind. Foolish, with a head full of dreams and songs of knights, but kind. _Songs of Knights…..and fair maidens. _ He smirked to himself, standing up and taking another full flagon of wine to join his currently depleted one as he left the cellar, making his way towards the cage.

_She's with the hens in their sanctuary no doubt. _ He scoffed as he stumbled through the halls, ignoring the shocked gasp of a servant boy who nearly ran in to him, arms full of stolen silver. _But she won't stay. As soon as the Queen deserts them, she'll wisen up and get away from Payne. And she will run to her chambers. Her one sanctuary…_

His footsteps sounded loud in his ears, making him curse the armor he wore, the white cape on his back feeling like a large hand that dragged him down. He stopped just outside of her door, downing the rest of one of his flagons and tossing it to the side before pushing the door open. The room was empty, but despite the lack of lit candles, it was aglow. The fire from the battle illuminated her room through the window, and for a moment he thought he would be sick. He slammed his last remaining drink down on the table she had beside her bed and violently drew the curtains. Once it was dark he breathed. His eyes adjusted to the dark well as he looked around.

It was a pretty room, full of small things, insignificant things, that a Lady would need. Her powders, that she used to cover her bruises, and the jewels the wore to look pretty for the King. He wanted to shatter them with his fists, but it would do no good now.

_Maybe that inbred fuck will die tonight. _He chuckled at the thought. He had been Joffrey's sworn shield for most of the boys life, in some ways he had been his best friend. Loyal, no matter what abuse had been thrown at him. Like a good dog. _But even a dog will bite, when kicked enough…._ Sandor sighed and shook his head as he continued to walk around the room, randomly opening drawers and cupboard out of pure curiosity as he waited for his Little Bird to fly to him.

As he peeked in to one drawer of her vanity he stopped and looked inside it. It was full of letters, as well as something wrapped in what looked like fur. _Wolf fur…_ he noted.

He picked up one of the letters and unfolded it, reading the words scrawled in her beautiful, refined hand.

**Arya,**

**I miss you. I know you'll never read this, I have no idea were you are or how I would send this, but I have to write it. We never got along, I always thought you a pest, but I love you. More than anything. I miss Father, and Mother, and the boys. I want to go home. Please, get stronger and help me go home. Stay alive so we can go back to the North together. Please. Winter is Coming. **

He put it down, clearing his throat as he glanced through all of the others. They were all the same, in nature at least. Letters to her family, that they would never receive. Some were even addressed to her dead Father. All of them begging for them to be okay, and to take her home. He looked at the small bundle in the fur and lifted it up, unwrapping it. Inside was a doll, a pretty little doll, much like the ones the young Princess would have.

_Was this from her Father? _ He asked himself as he looked it over. It was not worn at all, no child had ever held this. He sighed and carefully put it back in its place.

He moved then her her bed and sat on it, his armor rattling in the darkness. He took a swig of wine before looking down at the pillow. Soft and silk, on top of a feather mattress. Exhaustion came over him, and he laid down, sweat and blood soaking the fine sheets. He could smell her on the sheets, not the rose petals she bathed in, but her. That gentle, soft, velvet like smell of her skin, that he had only known a little of, from their chance meetings in the halls, when he had got close enough to smell her. He closed his eyes and sighed.

_I'll wait. She won't be long now. When she comes, I'll take that song she owes me. _He Gave sneer to himself. _Then I'll take her. _And darkness consumed his mind.

_**Sansa**_

Soft shoes echoed down the hall as Sansa Stark fled from the panic of her safe haven below. The Queen had left them with the executioner, and he would kill them all, rather than let them be captured. She had no idea were she could go that would be safe. If Joffrey were to fail, and Stanis win the battle, would he show her mercy? Would he return her home, or we she be a prisoner, just to a new lord.

She choked as she covered her mouth, approaching the small bedroom that had always been safe for her. No one really bothered her in there, not the King or the Queen, though they would sometimes send the Hound to fetch her. But he wasn't crewel.

As she came to the landing that held her room she paused, breathing hard and pressing a hand against her chest as it rose up and down steadily. She looked down the hall to were her room was and slowly started to walk towards it. The iron handle felt hold in her hand as she unlatched it, and the dull thud as it closed behind her reminded her of thud of a headsman's axe coming down. She leaned against the door for a second before remembering to turn and latch it closed.

Her room was black at pitch, and she had to fumble in the dark, guiding her hands across the wall until she came to the window. She ripped back the curtains and her breath caught in her throat, nearly making her gag.

The southern sky was aswirl with glowing, shifting colors, the reflections of the great fires that burned below. Baleful green tides moved against the bellies of clouds, and pools of orange light spread out across the heavens. The reds and yellows of of common flame warred against the emeralds and jades of wildfire, each color flaring and then fading, birthing armies of short-lived shadows to die again an instant later. Green dawns gave way to orange dusks in half a heartbeat. The air itself smelled _Burnt,_ the way a soup kettle sometimes smelled if it was left on the fire too long and all the soup boiled away. Embers drifted through the night air like swarms of fireflies.

She backed away from the window, towards the safety of her bed. _I'll go to sleep, _she told herself, _and when I wake it will be a new day, with a blue sky. The fighting will be done and someone will tell me if I will live or die._

A shifting sound behind her made her jump, her mind leaping to the impossible. A long gone friend who had always been there to protect her.

"Lady?" She asked into the dark room. Just then two strong, calloused hands clamped down on her, one reaching out and pinning both of her hands to her chest, and the other clamping hard over her mouth. Her heart nearly stopped as she felt herself pulled roughly against the armored chest of a man, much larger than herself.

"Little Bird, I knew you'd come." The voice was a familiar, rough drunken rasp. She couldn't see him, but she knew in in an instant.

"If you scream, I'll kill you. Believe that." The Hound rasped in her ear and she nodded instantly. The hand came off of her mouth and the other spun her around to face him, still clamped down hard on her wrist. The light from the window let her see him. The blood on his face was as dark as tar, his eyes glowing, like a dogs, in the glare, his once white cloak was stained and tattered. They stood for a moment, looking at each other in the dim green glow. His hand was shaking in its grasp on her.

"Don't you want to ask who's winning the battle, little bird?" He asked, his eyes unfocused and he swayed slightly.

"Who?" She was scared, she knew it. Her body was locked up so tight that she couldn't move, and she had no courage to defy him.

The Hound laughed, a deep rumble in his chest.

"I only know who's lost. Me." His chuckle continued.

_He is drunker than I've ever seen him. _She thought and looked to the space behind him and saw her bed, disheveled and stained with blood. _He was sleeping in my bed. What does he want? _ Her heart skipped a beat for a moment at the thought of him being in her chambers, in her bed.

"What have you lost?" She asked, her eyes staring at his chest, not able to meet his eyes.

"All." He rasped out, her eyes caught the movement of a bitter smile twisting on his burned face. "Bloody dwarf. I should have killed him. Years ago."

"He's dead, they say." She whispered out. He responded with coarse laugh, so deep it felt like vibrations in her chest.

"Dead? No. Bugger that. I don't want him dead." He picked up a flagon of wine had on her bedside table and drained it before tossing it aside. The sound of breaking pottery made her flinch. "I want him burned." The last word was said with such hate, his eyes seemed to darken with a bitter amusement. "If the gods are good, they'll burn him, but I won't be here to see it. I'm going."

This froze her more than the fear. His eyes were now downcast, like he was trying to find something new to focus on. She tried to pull her wrist from his hand, but his grasp was iron.

"Going?"

"The little bird repeats wherever she hears. **Going**, yes."

"Were will you go?"

"Away from here. Away from the out the Iron Gate, I suppose. North somewhere, anywhere."

"You won't get out." Sansa said, her heart breaking a little for the man in front of her. _Of course the fires. Of course_. "The Queen's closed Maegor's, and the city gates are shut as well."

"Not to me. I have the white cloak, and I have this." He patted the pommel of his sword. "The man who tries to stop me is a dead man. Unless he's on fire." He laughed bitterly. Sansa studied him for a moment. In all of her time at court, around Joffrey and the Queen, she had never seen a man more broken before. He was drunk, and scared, and sad. He had left his post at the kings side, he had lost everything. And yet, he came here before he left. What did he have to gain by coming to her room, unless…

"Why did you come here?" She asked her voice shaking slightly. He looked at her with deep grey eyes, another burst of flame outside lighting them up. Reflecting a heat she felt on her wrist were he held her.

"You promised me a song, little bird. Have you forgotten?"

She stood aghast. She couldn't sing for him now, here, with the sky aswirl with fire and men dying in their hundreds and their thousands.

"I can't…" He mumbled out, pulling at her wrist, recognizing the heat in his eyes for something more than a desire for a song. "Let me go, you're scaring me."

"Everything scares you." He snapped. "Look at me. **Look at me.**"

The blood masked the worse of his scars, but his eyes were wide and white, and terrifying. The burnt corner of his mouth twitched. Sansa could smell him, he was so close. He stank of sweat, and sour wine, and stale vomit, and over it all the reek of blood.

"I could keep you safe." He rasped, his voice much more gentle than his posture. Her eyes met his again. The fear and anger was still there, and the heat, but there was more. A look she had not seen in a long time. A faint glimmer of hope. "They're all afraid of me. No one would hurt you again, or I'd kill them." He pulled her closer to him, firmly, but not painfully, and for a moment, as he came closer to her face, she thought he meant to kiss her. Her heart leapt to her throat and she closed her eyes, he was too strong to fight, and even so, she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to. But nothing happened. She heard a sharp intake of breath.

"You still can't bear to look, can you?" He growled at her. Her eyes opened and she opened her mouth to speak, but the room spun around her. His hands had grabbed her shoulder and he flung her down on to the bed. She bounced slightly as she felt his weight set on top of her. He was straddling her legs, pinning her down with his massive form, as a metallic sound echoed in the darkness, and the feeling of cold steel pressed against her throat. Her eyes went wide. As she laid there, prone, looking up at the man.

"I'll have that song." He snarled. "Florian and Jonquil you said. Sing, little bird. Sing for your little life."

She was shaking, not daring to move as the point of the dagger twisted against the soft skin of her neck. It hadn't drawn blood, not yet, but what would happen if she couldn't remember the song? Her eyes were locked on his as she struggled to remember, wanting to cry, to scream and beg him not to kill her. She had seen anger before, but this was something so much more terrifying. She saw desperation in a dangerous man, with nothing left to lose. She remembered then, it wasn't Florian and Jonquil, but it was a song. She licked her lips and swallowed to try and get the dryness out of her mouth before she sang, her voice sounding think and tremulous in her own ears.

_**Gentle Mother, font of mercy,**_

_**Save our sons, from war we pray,**_

_**Stay the swords and stay the arrows,**_

_**Let them know a better way. **_

_**Gentle Mother, strength of women,**_

_**Help our daughters through this fray,**_

_**Soothe the wrath and tame the furry,**_

_**Teach us all a kinder way. **_

Her voice trailed off at the rest of the verse left her memory. All was still for a moment as she watched him, terrified of what he might do now that her song was sung. Slowly the blade moved away from her throat and his hand came to rest beside her head. He didn't speak.

Some instinct made her lift her hand and cup his cheek with her fingers. The room was too dark, and his hair hung over his face, but she could feel the stickiness of the dried blood, and a wetness that was not blood. Her heart pounded as his hand came up over her own and he pulled it away from his ruined face.

"Little bird…"He said once more, his voice raw and harsh as steel on stone.

_Don't say goodbye…_ She thought as he started to move off of her. Her body had been frozen she thought, but now she sat up fast and easy as he stepped away from her bed. He turned away from her.

"Wait!" She called to him. He stopped one step towards the door and turned his head ever so slightly. Not looking at her, but letting her know he was listening. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her pounding heart. "I'm coming with you."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: The bird and the hound**

_**Sansa**_

_This is really happening…._ Sansa could scarcely believe it as she grabbed some clothing out her dresser and stepped behind the changing screen. She could hear The Hound cursing as the sound of footsteps echoed past the hall. He had told her to change into her riding gear, or else the saddle would rub her raw. She remembered Arya and smiled as she left the gown part of her riding attire behind and started at the complicated system of laces on her bodice.

"Gods…" She whispered to herself as a now familiar pain rocked through her stomach. She was still flowering, and she feared that the pains of it would cripple her, but still she had told her to be fast but her shaking fingers fumbled with the gown that normally took herself and her hand maids to adorn. She peeked out from around her changing screen, and saw him pacing, keeping his back to her, his hand anxious on his sword.

_This will take to long…._ She resigned and swallowed.

"May I borrow your dagger?" She asked, and he turned his head in surprise.

"Why?" The word was short and rasped. It was amazing how fast he seemed to have sobered up.

"I can't get these laces. It will be faster to cut it." She said. He looked at her for a moment, the darkness of the room obscuring most of his expression, but he nodded and pulled the dagger out of its sheath, tossing it around and handing the hilt toward her. She reached to grab it when another pain stabbed her insides. She suppressed the urge to mutter a very un-ladylike curse.

"Your injured?" He asked. She looked up at him and saw the concern in his eyes.

"No." She forced herself to straighten again. "It's...my flowering."

He nodded and jumped, as a loud thumping was heard on the door. Someone was trying to break in.

"Bugger it all…" He hissed and turned towards her, his large frame forcing her to step back. "Turn around, I'll cut the back of it, then hurry. That door wont last long."

She nodded and turned her back to him, lifting her hair up out of the way. She stiffened as his fist grabbed the collar of her gown roughly, and the cold steel of his blade barely grazed the back of her neck. At the harsh ripping sound and the sudden slack in her gown she bit her lip and decided decency was the least important thing right now, and simply let it drop. His hand left her and his footsteps retreated, towards the door. She heard a sword be drawn as the pounding got louder, and the door shook on its lock.

Sansa managed to pull her riding trousers up her body and fasten their laces quickly, glad for the corset that ensured they fit. She then pulled a chemise down over her and grabbed a dark colored cloak off of his perch. She was hardly dressed as a Lady, but that didn't matter right now. She kicked off her shoes and reached for her riding boots when the door burst in. She let out a small scream and ducked down instinctively as she heard the sound of a scuffle on the other side of her changing screen.

There was the dull scraping of swords against each other, and the grunting of men, before two loud, wet sounding thuds hit the ground. She peaked out again and saw the hound standing over two bodies, both dressed in the gold cloaks of the city guards. One's head had fallen on top of her bed, and the other had been nearly cleaved in two.

Sandor Clegane was breathing heavily, wiping blood away from his mouth as he pushed the door closed again and leaned against it, the lock ruined. He caught her eye.

"If your ready then hurry the fuck up." He growled and she swallowed, her fear of him returning.

"Just my I'm done." She said and he nodded, breathing hard. She turned and slipped the boots on, hastily tieing them, and not properly. She stood and swung the cloak over her shoulders and nodded. "Okay…"

He nodded back and opened the door, peeking out into the hall as Sansa carefully stepped over the two bodies in her way, trying not to look at the damage that had been done, and so fast.

"It's clear. Lets go." He grabbed her wrist and pulled her out the door, his sword still drawn in his other hand, as he dragged her down the hallway. He moved quickly, shockingly so for a man of his size and in armor. However it was impossible for them to be quiet, with the clanking of metal and the creaking of leather.

The Hound set a hard pace, while he was barely jogging, she had to sprint to keep up with his much longer strides. His white cloak billowed in front of her, sometimes brushing against her legs, a rough blanket of snow, stained with ash and blood.

They made their way down the tower stairs and across the drawbridge, in to the main hall of the Red Keep. She shuddered, seeing the hall so dark and quiet, the iron throne looking menacing in the dark of night. They stopped for a moment as Clegane looked around, as if trying to get his bearings. Sansa fumbled with the edge of her cloak as she waited, wishing she had something to hold, to keep her hands busy.

"Fucking, Shit…" He spat, almost to himself. He looked panicked, his eyes wide and watering from the smoke in the air, half of his face coated in thick, dried blood, making his burns look much more fresh than they really were. She saw more dark stains on his armor, and she noted that he was limping a little.

_He's hurt. Badly._ She thought as he wiped his hand over his face. _And he has nothing with him. Gods…_

"Do you know where the vault is from here?" She asked, drawing his attention.

"Yeah I know, but we aren't trying to get to the vault, we need to get to my fucking horse! Just gotta figure out how to get there with running in to the least amount of people."

"Do you have any money on you?" She asked, stepping forward. "Or any supplies? We'll need it or we'll starve."

He looked at her and clenched his jaw, his eyes darting away. A pang of pride filled her belly as she noted the acknowledgement he showed.

"Fuck it. It's not guarded. And we can get to the stables from there." He huffed and reached out to grab her again. This time she reached to him and took his hand, rather than letting him pull her by the wrist. And they moved.

The way to the vault was even darker, as it went under the ground, and had no windows for the fire to shine in. On the way, Clegane had to stop to grab and light a torch off of the wall, or risk them both plummeting down a flight of stairs. The halls were damp down here, and rumbled slightly as the battle waged above them.

"There might still be guards." He muttered. "Stay behind me, and keep your ears open and your mouth shut."

She nodded as they reached a landing and their pace slowed. He let go of her hand to draw his sword, moving slowly, and shockingly quiet, despite the thunderous noise he had been making earlier. She reached out and clenched her fist in to his white cloak, the rough wool rubbing against her soft fingers. He looked at her with a raised eyebrow before nodding and continuing towards the vault.

They crept silently, turning this corner and that before noting a light at the end of one hall, and shadows moving in it. He turned and handed the torch to her and moving her up against a wall.

"Stay here, little bird, and don't peep." His voice was as soft as a breeze against her ear, and she nodded, watching and shaking as he went towards the light.

"Who's there?!" A voice called, it sounded familiar.

"Who the fuck do you think?" The Hound snarled back. "What the fuck do you think your doing? Taking a little extra pay from the king?"

"What about you, Dog?" Another voice said, sounding shaky. "Aren't you supposed to be outside? Or did you tuck tail?"

"Wanna say that again, Boron? Not in the mood for your pissy jests." His voice sounded dangerous.

"Your barely standing dog, what makes you think we won't whip you?" The first voice said, and she heard the drawing of steel. That was enough, apparently, as the sounds of a fight broke out. Clanging and grunting, before a wet crunching sound and a curse filled the hall. Then footsteps, running directly toward her.

She froze as the man rounded the corner, one of the Kingsguard, his white cloak pristine but a large gash on his face. She recognized him, though they rarely interacted. He had struck her once, on Joffrey's demand. And he had not held back.

He froze when he saw her, his eyes looking at her face with recognition.

"Your-" He started, but never got to finish as a hand grabbed his mouth and a dagger drew across his throat.

He fell, nearly grabbing her leg as the blood spurted forward, as another hand took her hand and lead her away. She held the torch carefully as he drew her with him to the vault, were two other men lay slain. He picked up one of their bags and held it out to her, she took it, her hand dropping slightly at the weight.

"They…" She breathed out as The Hound lifted two other bags on to his shoulders.

"They packed it up for us." He grunted, as he held his side, blood staining his fingers. "Now we got the money, we gotta get out. As soon as they find you missing, the entire city will on our arses."

She nodded and shouldered the heavy bag, keeping hold of the torch as he turned right down another hall and up a steep flight of stairs.

She could hardly keep track of the twists and turns the two of them made though the bowels of the castle. His pace had slowed, his wounds were bleeding now, from the two fights he had already encountered. Sansa wandered if he would survive this, if it was all for naught, when they came to another flight of stairs, long, straight and steep, leading up to a heavy looking wooden door. They made their way up them, Clegane having to lean against the wall to make it up, his breathing rough, sweat pouring down his face. At the door, he pushed, but it didn't move. He pushed again, and nothing.

"Son of a whore…" He cursed and laid his two bags down on the stair near Sansa's feet, held on to the wall for support, and kicked the door once, twice, on the third time it slammed open, the bolt on the outside shattering from the impact. He fell forward, nearly on to his face, but Sansa reached out and grabbed a hold of his arm, using her whole body weight to pull him towards her. Clumsily, he leaned against the wall behind her and took a moment to breathe, ignoring the fact that he was hovering over her. After getting his breath he nodded and picked the bags back up, and looked around were they were.

They were on the edge of the sea, Sansa could see fires burning to their left, and darkness to their right. They were outside of the Red Keep. The sound of hooves caused Sansa to whip her head around, her red hair falling in to her face as the saw a lone horse on the stairs that led back up in to the city. It was large and black, and looked very familiar to her.

"Good boy, Stranger." The Hound laughed as he made his way to the horse, that threw his head in what seemed like pride and joy at seeing his master. He grabbed the horses reins and loaded the two bags on to his back, as Sansa approached, holding out her back for him to fasten it as well.

"Someone must have tried to steal him, got him all saddled and everything." He droned as he got things set. "Good for us too. Now pull up that hood and hide your hair, it's too easily recognisable as Tully, here in the city." She did as she was told, pulling her hair back and hiding it under the hood of her cloak. He turned and put his hands on her waist, lifting her up on to the horse as if she weighed nothing. She slung her leg over Strangers saddle and leaned her hands back on his rump as The Hound mounted in front of her, taking the reins. She wrapped her arms around his waist, holding tightly onto the leather straps that kept his sword on his body, as he turned the horse and started through the city.

They ran at nearly a full gallop, moving quickly through the dark, abandoned streets. No one was out, neither pessant or guard, all had locked themselves inside their homes, probably praying for the fighting to end. Strangers hooves echoed in the empty streets as they made their way toward the Iron Gate, were two guards stood. When they saw the horse approach, they grabbed their two spears and held them at the ready. The Hound reined up, and Stranger halted, Sansa buried her face in his back, hoping to hide from the guards.

"Halt! No one is to leave the city, on the Queens orders!" The man said. Sandor placed a hand on his pommel and snarled at them.

"You plan to stop me?" He growled. Sansa saw the guards take a step back. "I'll give you ten seconds to open that gate, or your skulls will be my new drinking cups."

It took them only a second to start unlatching the gate. They opened it and scurried out of the way as Stranger barreled through them, and out into the dark night.

They rode on in silence for some time, the fire that lit up the sky growing dimmer and dimmer as they rode farther away from civilization. Stranger moved quickly, huffing as he galloped at an alarming pace, The Hound clenching tightly to the reins with one hand, and Sansa grasping on to his waist. She felt hot, sticky blood on her arm and swallowed before calling out, raising to be heard over the sound of the wind blowing past them, small droplets of rain starting to fall on her shoulders.

"Your hurt…" She said and he snorted.

"Yes, but what of it?" He scoffed back. "Been hurt before, and worse than this. I'll deal with it when we stop."

She clutched him in her arms and nodded against his back.

"Thank you." She felt a sob rise in her throat, but she suppressed it. She wouldn't start crying into his cloak, not right now, while they were still in danger.

"Don't thank me yet, little bird." He said, his voice more gentle than it had been before. "Wait until we survive a week. Then you can say I saved you."

She nodded and closed her eyes against the pain she was in. Her stomach was aching again, and a deep pressure made her back feel like it was being crushed. The rough saddle and the heavy bouncing that came from being on a galloping horse made her thighs feel bruised, and her womanhood throb as she bled. But she refused to complain. This was a part of being a woman, and he was hurt. There was a large difference between the two.

Sansa did not know how long they rode, but after some time Stranger did have to slow to a trott and then a walk, snorting and panting heavily from the exertion of carrying both his heavy master and another while running so fast. Before long they were walking down the kings road, and rain pelted them hard from above. The Hound had to pull his cloak around himself to stay warm as they looked ahead, seeing nothing but the dark road, as the moon was hidden behind cloud and ash.


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors note: I want to thank you all for the support you have shown this silly little tale so far. This story, I hope, will be a bit of a slow burn. I know some things might end up being OOC but no worse than the show was, I hope. I'm going off of the thought that this one act, of saving her, drastically changes their relationship, and quickly, though we will still see some of that harsh ass of a Hound, and the timid, nervous Sansa more in the future. Please, leave reviews and I am always open to constructive criticism. It helps me become a better writer. Thank you again.**

**Chapter 3: The hollow tree**

_**Sansa**_

"Wake up, little bird." His voice was thin and rough as she blinked her eyes open. She sat up slowly, feeling the rocking of the horse beneath her. _When did I fall asleep?_

"Where are we?" She asked drowsily, wiping the sleep out of her eyes. She looked up at the sky, it was still dark, though she could slightly see light peeking over a distant horizon.

"Somewhere west of Kings landing." He said "Only about half a mile away."

"Only that far?" She asked, her stomach clenching. "How? I thought we would be farther by now…"

"If we had gone in a straight line, we would be." He sighed. Sansa couldn't see his face, but his posture was bent and his body felt warm. "I took us around and off the road. I know a place we can hold up, for a few days. They'll expect us to go strait North, so we have to not do that. Best if we stay close and hold up somewhere safe, until most of their riders are far gone in search of us. I'm strong, but I can't fight off a whole group of them on my own."

She nodded and looked around her, they were surrounded by tall, thick trees. She didn't recognise this place, she had not heard of a forest to the west.

"What forest is this?" She asked, straightening to try and stretch out her aching back." He shrugged.

"Don't think it's got a name. Not a lot of folk come here. I chased some thieves in to this wood once, they had taken something of Joffreys when he had been just a little monster. Queen wanted me to sniff em out."

"What happened?" She asked, pulling her cloak tighter around herself.

"I found em, killed em, and brought their heads back as proof. The little trinket too." He said it all so blankly, and without emotion that it made Sansa want to squirm. "But what was better, was were I found em. Nice little hiding spot they had, if they hadn't been complete idiots, I would never have got em. Now we can use it better."

Stranger stopped and Sansa peeked out from around The Hounds massive shoulder to look in front of her. There was a large redwood tree in front of them, its thick roots were weaving in and around the wet brush around it, it's trunk as wide as a house. Thick moss grew on it, and other trees sprouted up against it. It was quite beautiful.

The Hound slipped down off of Stranger, stumbling slightly when he touched ground, and started to lead the horse around the massive tree. As they approached he reached up and pushed aside a large cluster of branches that grew against the tree from another beside it. Behind the foliage, much to Sansa's surprise, was a large crack that ran eight feet up the tree. Clegane motioned and Stranger stepped lightly into the crevice, Sansa ducking under the brush as the dog followed in behind, letting the foliage fall and cover the opening.

Inside the tree was warm and dry, and dark. She could make out some vague shapes around her but couldn't make out any details. A hand on her knee alerted her to the Hound at her side. He reached up and put his hands on her waist, and she placed her own on his shoulders as he lifted her down from Strangers back. Her legs ached terribly and as he turned to do something she bent down to rub at them. She stretched her muscles as she heard the sound of wood clattering together in the darkness, and she turned to the horse beside her, reaching up and petting its neck. The horse stomped its hoof and turned in to the pet, nibbling gently at her cloak. She smiled.

There was a small clicking sound and a little bit of light struck up in the hollow tree. Sansa turned and saw Clegane kneeling over the beginnings of a fire, set in what looked like a well kept pit filled with dirt and stone. As he kindled the fire with some wood that had apparently already been in here, the tree lit up more, a light orange glow filling the wooden hall and illuminating their surroundings.

The floor was shockingly smooth, too smooth to be natural, and the hollowed out cavern lifted several feet above them, were she could see small cracks that were starting to let in the new morning light.

"The thieves carved this place out?" She asked as the fire reached its full height and the Hound quickly stepped away from it, dusting his hands off.

"Aye, or someone did before them. Didn't ask." He said as he moved to start un-ladening Stranger. "This tree can't be seen from the road, and even walking past, you wouldn't be able to tell, unless you got lucky, or someone inside was being stupidly loud. Those holes don't let light out, even at night, but it's enough for smoke to escape. And as long as we aren't being too loud, nothing should be drawn to us."

"What were they doing that let you find them?" She asked, not sure she wanted to know. He looked at her and smirked, the burnt side of his lip twitching.

"They were drinking, and fucking." He said bluntly, and she felt her cheeks redden. "Wouldn't have given them away either, if the one on his knees hadn't been so bad at acting. Louder don't mean better."

With the saddle and bridle off, Clegane let Stranger out of the tree to go graze.

"He won't go far." He said, noting Sansa's concerned look. "And without the trappings, anyone sees him, they'll think him just a wild one. He'll kick em too, if they try to test it."

He threw the bags down on to the ground and slunk down next to them, opening them up and filing through them. There were five bags in total now, and a roll of what looked like bedding, that had already been packed on Strangers back when they had found him.

The tree bags from the vault thieves was full of silver and gold trinkets, jewelry, as well as some coin purses. Sansa had to guess that if they could sell all of it, they would be one of the richest pairs in the seven kingdoms now.

The last two bags were full of supplies. Food, water, rope and blankets. Even some feed for a horse and a sack that was used to draw water.

"We got lucky…" She muttered as she looked at the haul in front of them. The Hound nodded.

"Whatever gods do exist seem to have been on our side, for once." He scoffed and looked up at her. "Probably their way of making up for putting you through so much."

He tossed her something out of a bag and she caught it with both hands. The apple she had caught was small and red, the fire now reflecting its glow on the smooth peel. She felt her stomach twinge, she had not realised how hungry she had been.

She bit in to the apple as the Hound stood and made his way towards the exit, stopping to look at her as he held the water bag.

"Stay here, and get that pot on the fire." He said, motioning to a pot that had been attached to the bed roll. "I'm getting us some water. I'll be back shortly."

She nodded and moved the iron pot into the fire, shifting it so that its handle stayed away from the flame, and its base set on coals. She sat there, looking at the flame and eating the apple he had given her.

_I'm free…._ She thought it, but it didn't feel real. Her hands dropped to her lap, water dripping from her hair on to her legs from the rain. She was out of that place. No Joffrey there to torment her, to Queen to mock her. Just a Hound.

She blushed and thought back to what had caused this. He had been in her room, he had been cruel and rough. She recalled the knife at her throat and his demand that she sing. She remembered his hands, rough, calloused and unkind tossing her down. His weight on top of her. She had no clue what convinced her to go with him. He was hateful and angry, not to mention drunk and depressed, and yet the idea of staying in that Keep without him there to guard her, even in the slightest, sent a chill down her spine.

The sound of boots drew her eyes to him as he re-entered, carrying the sack with both hands. He bent and dumped some of the water in to the pot, which was much too small to hold it all. And he sat back down, taking in a deep breath.

_He cried._ She thought back to the tears she had felt on his cheeks. Now, in the bright fire-light she could see him in full for the first time that night. His armor was filthy and bloody, much like his cloak, and half of his face was glistening with blood and sweat. The other half was pale. She looked down at his side and saw the red stain growing there.

"Take off your clothes." The words made her eyes dart to his face.

"I beg pardon?" She asked, her body seizing up again.

"You should take off those clothes." He repeated, shifting how he sat. "Their soaked, and you'll get a fever. Don't worry yourself, little bird, I'll look away."

He tossed a blanket at her and turned away from her, his hand reaching up and starting to unfasten one pauldron of his armor.

She muttered a soft acknowledgment and turned away from him as well, taking off her soaked cloak and laying it out to dry. He had been right, her cemise and trousers were soaked through, even her corset and undergarments felt wet against her skin. She undressed quickly, kicking off her boots and pulling the top off over her head. Once she was down to her privvys she wrapped the blanket around herself and turned back to him. He was still working on the same pauldron.

"Here...let me help." She said and inched towards him. He looked back at her and sighed, nodding. She knelt down behind him as he turned away. She had to let the blanket fall open, but since he wasn't looking at her she only felt mildly uncomfortable by it. Her small, delicate hands worked to unfasten the belts and latches of his armor quickly, her hand barely grazing against the back of his neck at one point. She felt the heat there and she swallowed.

"Your fevered…" She said as he pulled the armor off after it was unfastened. The loose shirt he wore beneath was soaked and stained red.

"Aye." He sighed. "Bled allot. Gotta get these washed out before they fester." She nodded and went over to the pot of water, that had now started to boil Using her old cloak to protect her hands, she lifted the pot up and carried it over to him, setting down in front of him as he pulled the tunic off over his head. She blushed slightly at the sight. He was heavily muscled, many scars trailed over his arms and chest, along with thick curls of hair that lead down in to his trousers.

He had several small cuts and bruises all over his torso, but the worst was certainly a deep gash in his side. It was bleeding steadily, and looked painful. He turned it towards the light to examine it better. It was a nasty, jagged wound, curving right over his rib cage before angling down towards his hip. Sansa frowned at it as he sighed out another curse, flinching as he used his fingers to test out the area around it.

"We need to make bandages…." She said softly, looking around for something to use. "I don't know if that will be enough for that though…"

"If I had a needle I'd sew it." He grunted out, but she shook her head. She didn't know allot, she could admit that, but living in the North, her Father had insisted that all of his children knew how to dress wounds, and how to determine the best way to do so.

"It's too large for sewing…" She said. "And it looks like a good part of the skin came clean off. Here, let me look at it closer."

She inched forward and he slid away, looking at her in a way that could only be described as nervous. She stopped and stared at him in confusion.

"Didn't realise little birds could be Maesters as well…" He scoffed out. She pouted angrily.

"I'm a Stark." She hissed at him. "We actually had to learn some useful things, in the North. Now don't be a baby and let me look."

He leaned back and she leaned over his side, looking at the wound more carefully. The area around it was red and puffy, irritated from the armor no doubt, and the large area of exposed raw flesh would be prime for infection. She looked at it, and then to his face. She saw the worry there, and she knew that he had come to the same conclusion.

"We need to cauterise this…." She said softly. He looked away from her, his hands clenched at his side.

"Bugger that…." He shook his head. "I'll wash it and wrap it. That'll be enough…"

"No." Sansa put her hand on his shoulder as he tried to sit back up. "If we don't cauterise it, it will fester. You could die."

"So what?" He spat back at her, sitting up straight.

"So I just got out!" She yelled back at him. "And I don't want you to die!"

He just stared at her and shook his head, averting his eyes.

"Even after what I did?" He asked, his voice soft. "After I let those thing happen to you?"

"You protected me, more than anyone else has since my Father died." She said, her hand on his shoulder loosening slightly. "You saved me from the mob, and prevented me from doing stupid things. You gave me fare warning of Joffreys mood, and you covered me when he bore me to the court." She moved her hand to his face, looking him in the eye. "And you took me away from there. I owe you….everything."

He looked at her for a second before averting his eyes, his head turning ever so slightly in to her hand.

"You owe me nothing, Little Bird." He said with a sad smile. "I already took my song."

She smiled and nodded.

"And I'll sing to you again, if you'd like." She said with a tired laugh. "But only if you let me help you...I'll do everything I can to help make it less….terrible. You can do whatever you need to afterwards, but we need to deal with this now."

He sat there, completely still for what felt like forever to Sansa before slowly nodding. She let out a breath she had been holding and bit her lip as he reached behind him, and grabbed ahold of his white cloak.

"Use my dagger. Cut that up and get that in the boiling water. We'll need them afterwards." She nodded and did as she was told, cutting the cloak in to long strips, as best she could. She then tossed them in to the pot, and got it back on the fire, to let the water boil away anything that might infect the wound. She then put the blade of the dagger in to the coals of the fire as well. The Hound worked on washing out the rest of his wounds with cold water, using his shirt to wipe the blood off of his face and arms. Sansa went and helped him, using some of the spare clothes that had been packed in one of the bags. They didn't really need them anyway, they were much too small for him, and certainly too large for her. Though, she did slip a large shirt over herself in an attempt to keep some modesty. Her legs were still bare, and she felt that she needed to walk carefully as she worked to help prepare, but it was better than only being in her undergarments.

It took a very long time for the dagger to get hot enough, and by then the water in the pot was at a rolling boil, the cloth inside of it looking the whitest it had since Clegane had first dawned the white cloak. She carefully took the pot off the fire as Clegane lay on his side, making sure to face away from the flame, but being close enough that she would not need to move far.

"Are you ready, Ser?" She asked, her manners still hanging on her, despite knowing how he hated being called that.

Predictably enough, he scoffed at her and grabbed the leather sheath his dagger had been kept in.

"Not really, but let's get it done." His voice was shaking. She reached out and pet his hair, wet and dirty, pushing it away from his face. He set the leather in his mouth, a guard to prevent him from biting his own tongue.

"Okay, lay down, and don't move." She said as calmly as she could, trying to will her own hands to stop shaking. She knew how to do this, but has never had to before. She wanted to make sure she did it right, so it wouldn't have to be done again. He laid down, breathing heavily through his nose. "I'm going to pour some of the hot water on it first...then I'll use the knife. Then I'll bandage and we'll be done." He took a deep, shaky breath, and nodded.

She nodded back and, keeping one hand gently on the side of his head in an attempt to comfort him, she picked up the steaming pot and, after taking her own breath, drizzled the scalding liquid down on to the crooked wound. The Hound's body seized up, his hands clenched into fists, jaw tightening on the leather in his mouth, but making no sound other than a small, soft grunt.

The water washed away the blood, and turned the skin into an unpleasant red color, before causing blisters to rise. She sat the pot down and, quickly, grabbed the knife from the fire, the heat from the hilt burning her own hand, and she pressed it firmly on to the gash, searing broken skin, as well as good, in order to get the entirety of the wound.

The smell nearly made her gag, and she would have, if she hadn't been distracted by the cry that left Cleganes throat at the pain. She looked at his face for just a moment, seeing it scrunched in agony, tears streaming down his face as his arms moved to cover his face.

She held it for a few seconds, remembering how long her father had taught her to, before pulling it away and tossing it off to the side. She grabbed his arm and tried to pull him up.

"Just for a second, so I can bandage it." She said as he worked to lever himself up, and she started grabbing rags out of the hot water, her hands hating her for it, and she started to wrap.

Thankfully there was a lot of strips from that cloak, since he was such a broad man, but it took several minutes to get the bandages wrapped around his waist and secured. Once she was done she stepped away from him and let him slide back on to his side.

After how much he had scared her in her room that night, and after he had cut down those men, seeing him curled up, whimpering, his hands and arms locked up so tight she thought he might shatter, it was sureel. She moved the pot and the remaining bandages out of the way, and pulled the blanket she had been using over, covering him with it. She knelt by his head and hushed him gently. She looked at his hands, and the red dripping from them.

"Let go…" She said, concern lacing her weak voice. Her hand went and gently touched his wrist. "It's over, relax your hands. Please…"

It took a moment but eventually he took a deep breath, and on the exhale his hands unclenched. She moved his hands away from his face and reached out, pulling the leather sheath from between his teeth, shocked to see that he had nearly pierced through the thick hide. She sat with him then, using a spare bit of cloth and cold water to wipe the sweat away from his face, as well as the blood in his hands.

His eyes were closed, and he breathed heavily. _Did he pass out? _She wandered as he seemed to sleep, his hair sprawled out about his head in a tangled mess. She scrunched up the cool cloth and wiped at his face again when one of his hands reached up and took ahold of her wrist, gently, with no strength in his fingers.

"Your burnt…" His voice mumbed weakly. She looked at her hands. She knew she had burnt them, her left was the worse since it held the dagger, but they didn't hurt too bad.

"I'm fine." She said in return, as thunder rumbled outside. "The cool water is helping. Are you okay?"

He didn't answer, he just sat up, struggling a great deal, before looking around him. He found the pot of water and pulled it closer, it having cooled in the rain-filled air. He reached in and pulled out the two remaining bandage stripps that had remained, and dipped them in to the cold water. He then proceeded to silently wrap her hands in then.

_He's about to pass out._ She knew. He was pale and clammy, his hands were shaking as he worked. His eyes dazed as he seemed to be moving on pure impulse.

As he tied the small knot on her second hand, he held it in his own, his dull grey eyes looking up to meet her own blue. She could feel the exhaustion weighing on them both as he leaned forward. For the second time that night, she thought he was going to kiss her. She held fast, determined not to close her eyes and make him mad again. But his lips did not graze hers, but instead his forehead leaned on her slim shoulder.

"It's been a long fucking night…" He sighed out, chuckling slightly. She couldn't help but laugh in return.

"Yes…" She nodded, awkwardly sitting with him now. "We should sleep. Or…I suppose you can, I can take watch-"

"No, you need to sleep too, little bird." He scoffed out, sitting up. "Just douse the fire and we'll be fine. No one will find us, unless we start making a bunch of noise."

She nodded and stood up, his hand holding on to hers for a just a moment longer before he let it drop. She carefully doused the fire, slowly pouring the once hot water onto it, trying not to steam up the place too badly. Once the fire was down to just some small embers, and turned to see him rolling the sacks up in to two lumps that could be used as pillows. As he lay on one, she went to him, pulling the blanket back over him. His skin, which had been so fevered, now felt dangerously cold. As she moved to stand, he took hold of her arm again.

"Little Bird." He rasped. "You said I could do what I need afterward?"

She nodded, settling on her aching knees.

"If there's anything I can do, please tell me." She said softly. "Do you want me to sing again?"

A small smile spread on his dry lips and he shook his head. He reached out and pulled the second bundle next to his own.

"Lay with me." He said with a sigh. Sansa felt her face flush hot. Her body stiffened as she knelt beside him.

_Why does...does he..is he…?_ Her own mind couldn't even form propper thoughts, but she swallowed and nodded slowly. _I owe him everything. This...isn't so bad. He may not even be able to, he's half passed out, and probably still more than a little drunk. It'll be fine, Sansa. Just do what he says. You promised him. _

She lifted the blanket that had been draped over him, and slid her legs beneath it, laying her head on the bundle of a pillow. Clegane pulled the blanket up over her shoulder, and rested one hand on her waist, pulling her closer, so that she was leaning against his chest.

She swallowed and shifted slightly, letting her hands rest on his side, careful of his wound. She felt long fingers glide through her damp hair.

"Um…"She said, hopelessly aware of the muscles that rippled everytime he moved.

"Hm?" He mumbled. Her hand pressed against his chest slightly, her fingers fumbling with the dark hair that grew there.

"I just...I'm still….are you sure your strong enough to…" She stuttered out, her feet rubbing together under the blanket. He pulled away from her and she saw his face, a confused frown furrowing his rough features. She blushed at him and she saw a smile twitch on his face before he let out a deep cuckle.

"Little bird though I meant to have her tonight?" He asked. She bit her lip and nodded. He laughed again, shaking his head. "No...no. I meant to...earlier...but...things changed pretty quickly."

She flushed, a chill running down her spine at the confession, that seemed to come so easily to him. _Why didn't he?_ She wandered. _He had me on my back...in my bed. I couldn't hope to resist him, so why…_

"Why...what changed?" She ventured to ask. He looked down at her, and his hand reached up and brushed her hair away from her face.

"You were so scared." He said, his harsh voice sounding deep and gentle. "I thought I had already lost my pride, what little bit of honor I kept. But I couldn't do that, I'm not Gregor." He scoffed and shook his head. "I won't force myself on a woman. Ever."

She blinked at him, her body relaxing slightly against him. He looked at her, sadness lingering in his deep grey eyes. She smiled slightly and nodded, leaning her head against his chest and closing her eyes.

His hand continued to pet her hair as he held her close. His skin was starting to warm again, and she could feel his bare chest through the cotton of the shirt she wore. She let out a small sigh as she felt the exhaustion of the day sweep over her.

_I'm free._ She thought again, listening to heavy breathing and the rain outside. _I'm free, and I'm not afraid…._ And darkness took her mind.


	4. Chapter 4

**Authors note: Again, sorry if you feel this is a bit OOC or that it is going very fast. To me, as a reader of the books, I had always felt that their affections for each other was always just under the surface, and that the situation made them very confused. So that is why I am willing to start these things early on in this story, especially since it will still be a "slow" burn in a sense of real romance. Right now it is very much a desire for choice and comfort, especially on Sansas side. I hope you enjoy the chapter and please leave a review. **

**Chapter 4: The Following Week**

_**Cercei**_

"What do you mean she's gone!?" Cersei Lannister bellowed at the guard standing in front of her and her son. It was the morning after the battle, and they had been victorious, barely, thanks to her Father arriving on time. Her fists clenched in her skirt.

Joffrey had just ordered one of his Kingsguard to bring Sansa to him, but when he had returned, he was shaking and pale, and he told them the truth.

"She is not in her chambers." The man stuttered out. "Inside there were two dead guardsmen, and this." The man lifted up a dress. It was the light pink one she had been wearing that night. It seemed to have been ripped, or cut open. "There was a great deal of blood on the bed, as well, your Grace."

"So someone raped her, and took her?" She almost whispered to herself, her eyes darting to her son. Joffrey looked upset, but not nearly enough. Without Sansa Stark, how would they get Jamie back? She shook her head, her golden braid falling on to her shoulder.

"She can't have gotten far." A rough voice at the back of the hall spoke up. Cersei turned to look at her Father, marching forward with his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Send out riders on all of the main roads. Hunt down the man who took her, and bring her back."

His presence alone seemed to have an air of authority. The men looked at their king, who just nodded, and they scurried off to complete their orders. Another man stepped forward, looking hesitant.

"I beg your pardon, Your Grace, but the Vault has been broken in to." He said curtly. "Several men were found dead outside of it as well."

"What of the Dog?" Joffrey asked, sounding spiteful. Cersei would never have believed The Hound would abandon her son, he had been so loyal for so long, but the dog tucked tail and ran. The man shook his head.

"Gone. Some servants said they had seen him going through the halls, drunk, but after that they lost track of him."

"Damn Dog. I'll have his head…" Joffrey cursed and sneered. His temper really was unlike anything Cersei had seen before.

"The Dog is the lesser problem, Your Grace." Tywin Lannister said cooly. "We need that Stark girl more."

"Why?" The king spat. "I have no interest in wedding a woman who has already been spoiled."

"Because we need her to put her brother in check." He said, firm yet respectful in tone. "As long as we had her, Rob Stark would never be able to gain a real advantage. Now that she is gone, this bodes ill for the war."

"Your Grace!" A firm voice called. A normal guard was standing there, holding a young serving girl by the arm. Joffrey sneered at him.

"What is it?" He asked.

"This girl claims to have seen Lady Sansa." He said, pushing the girl forward. The poor thing was trembling, the queen noticed. Her clothes were torn and ragged. She had not fared the fight well.

"Speak girl." Her father said, before either her or Joff could speak. "Tell us what you saw."

"I...I saw her come out of the tower in the night, M'Lord Lannister." She stuttered out.

"Was she alone?" He asked, his voice sounding almost gentle. Cersei's mouth twitched slightly. Her father, the master manipulator. He always knew how to get information.

"S….She was with….with The Hound, Ser…." She swallowed. "I...I had seen him fetch her many times in the past, so I thought nothing of it. But when I heard she was gone…" She flicked her eyes to the guard.

"She came straight to me, and told me what she knew." The Guard said with a nodd. _The boy likes her. How adorable, and entirely useless…._She thought quietly to herself.

"Can you recall were they went?" Tywin asked her, not taking those piercing green eyes off of her. She shook like a leaf under his shadow.

"I saw them come in to the great hall, I think the Lady mentioned the Vaults,but I didn't see or hear nuthin after that, M'Lord." She squeaked. Tywin looked at her for a moment longer before nodding, and turning to a soldier.

"Double the men searching." He said deeply. "And scour the town for anyone who might have seen them. Kill the Dog, and bring the girl."

_**Sandor**_

A sharp pain woke Sandor from his deep, dreamless sleep. He hissed in a breath and sat up, pressing his hand against the twinging ache in his side. The blanket that had been over him slipped down, and a small, sleepy moan next to him drew his attention.

The Little Bird was still asleep, curled up gently on her side, shivering as the cool air touched her skin. He winced and sighed before sliding out from under the blanket, and pulling it up over her shoulders.

_She even looks sad when she sleeps…._He thought, absently brushing her hair away from her face.

Moving carefully, Sandor left the hollowed Redwood and looked up at the sky, trying to see the sun through the trees. From what he could tell, it was just past mid day. The sky was blue now, the rain stopped, and an icy wind blew against his bare chest. The woods around him was quiet.

Taking a deep breath he made his way towards the stream, to draw fresh water. There he found Stranger, drinking silently. He made his way over and gently patted the horse, who rubbed his nose against Sandors neck. He still felt fevered, he knew there was still a good chance of his wounds becoming infected, but they had done what they could. Carefully, he dumped the old water out of its skin, and refilled it with new. Then he knelt down and took a sip from the stream with his hand.

It was icy cold, and fresh. It helped to shock the cobwebs out of his head. His long hair felt sticky against his face, and his feet hurt like hell. He could hardly remember a more trying night. Even the night his brother burned him hadn't been that stressful. Painfull, yes. And Terrifying, but he had passed out quickly back then, he had only been six.

He splashed the water on his face and picked up the sack, starting to move back towards their little hideout.

_Those bags had enough food for one person, for about a week of travel._ He thought as he walked. _With two of us, it might last a little over three days, five if we eat sparingly. I'll have to go hunting. The roads won't be safe from now on, and we'll have no chance of leaving without notice for at least five or six days. Assuming the King even survived. _

He was about halfway back to the tree when his well-trained ears picked up the sound of hooves, running down the road. He turned, trying to figure out what direction it was coming from, and how many. All of his years being a fighter, being a sworn shield, had trained him to pick up on these sounds, to determine a threat immediately.

_At least a dozen, coming from Kings Landing._ He thought and turned, moving faster towards the tree. _A hunting party, if I've ever heard one. Must have noticed her missing._

He stepped back in through the hidden crack in the trunk to find the Little Bird sitting up, rubbing at her eyes with her bandaged hands.

"Wha's happening?" She asked, sounding slightly drunk from sleep. Even a hard man like himself had to admit, it was adorable. Her long red hair was messy and knotted, not like he had ever seen it before, and her blue eyes were hazy. He walked in and set the water skin on the ground nearby.

"It's day now, Little Bird." He said, trying to make his voice more gentle. _And probably failing. Fuck me, it's hard being gentle. _"Stay quiet now. Some horsemen are going by, but as long as we're quiet, they won't find us."

She blinked at him, apparently being a bit slow to process his words, before her eyes widened slightly and her face turned a shade of red, almost as vibrant as her own hair. He frowned, confused before remembering that he was mostly naked. Bare chested, with only his trousers on, he was quite exposed, and her being a highborn lass, had probably never seen a man so in the nude before. _And she was too distracted treating my damn wounds last night to really notice it then._

He turned to where he had deposited the large tunic he had to wear under his armor, and sneered at it. It was filthy, coated in mud and dried blood, not to mention torn and frayed in many places. He picked it up and sighed, turning away from The Little Bird in order to transfer some of the water in to the same pot as last night, and make some washing water.

He heard shuffling behind him, and he resisted the urge to look around, as he worked to re-start the fire. _I'm not the only one nude here..._He reminded himself. _A man's tunic and her undergarments are all she has on. What you did last night was bad enough, so don't you dare turn around, let her get dressed._

A small hand rested on the back of his neck, causing him to stiffen. _So warm…_ Her hand was hot, not fevered, but warm from were it had been tucked beneath her in her chanced a glance over his shoulder and saw her bending over him, her hair falling down to were it tickled his back.

"You should get some more sleep…" She said softly, her voice sounding strained from the cold air. "You still have a fever…"

"Don't worry about it, Little Bird." He said, shrugging her hand off. "I gotta get these cleaned so I can wear them without getting infected. Go check your garments, see if their dry enough for you to put back on…"

He heard a small sigh and he felt her leave his side. His muscles relaxed slightly as he started to heat the water, already putting his shirt in. He could see her moving out of the corner of his eye, she was kneeling down, running her fingers over her riding trousers, her small top, and cloak. He glanced over at her and stopped the scrubbing he had already started. Her legs were completely bare, long, pale, and slender, the very end of the shirt she wore barely covering her bottom, and her womanhood. While normally the image may have been enough to excite him, the red that was smeared on the inside of her thighs are what caught his attention.

_Fuck, she's still flowering…_ He remembered. _We didn't have time to grab things, does she have everything she needs? _

Sandor cleared his throat and looked away, not wanting to keep staring at her, as his trousers were already feeling a bit too tight now. He had never learned how a woman deals with her Moon Blood. It was never something he was supposed to know about. He knew enough, the basics of it allowing her to bear children, and that it was rather looked down on to bed a woman during her blood, but that's about it. He knew some women experienced pain during that time, and that it was a mess, but how they actually dealt with it, he had no idea.

"D...do you have what you need?" He asked, put off by the very uncomfortable situation he had found himself in.

"What do you mean?" She asked. He swallowed.

"To...to handle that blood?" He asked a bit more clearly. He couldn't see her, but he heard a small gasp. _First time looking at her legs this morning?_ He thought. He could just imagine her blushing even redder.

"I...no. I have one rag….I need to wash it out…"She stammered. He swallowed.

"Can you use any of those other things in the bag?" He asked, motioning to the saddle bag they had found some clothes in earlier. He heard her open it, and shuffle through.

"I could probably use this shirt…"She mumbled. "I still need to wash them out though."

"You can wash it once this is done…" He said, quickly scrubbing at his shirt, now that the water was hot, though not boiling. He heard more shifting behind him, and her voice spoke, soft and timid.

"I...I'm going to be naked, so don't turn around…"

He nodded, focusing more on his task at hand. The blood was hard for him to wash out with his hands, as he heard the sound of rustling and ripping behind him. He had no idea what she was doing, but he didn't dare ask, not about this. After a bit he pulled the shirt out of the water and held it up, looking at it. It wasn't perfect, it never would be, but he suspected it was clean enough to be safe. He went and dumped the soiled water outside before returning, and filling it back up with clean, and setting it on the fire again.

The Little Bird finished changing and made her way to the fire, and he caught a glimpse of a linnen, soaked in red, being tossed into the pot.

"Does it hurt?" He asked. She looked up at him and blinked, her eyes wide. He looked at her and coughed slightly. "Your...flowering. Does it hurt?"

"Oh...sometimes…" She said, settling on her knees. "I get a pain in my stomach sometimes, right here." She placed her hand on the lower part of her tummy, right below her navel. "And my back has been hurting. But it's nothing worse than what Ser Meryn has done."

He flinched at the had been the worst, when it came to beating her. He hadn't hesitated, or held back. He remembered the savage strikes he had landed on her face the day Joffrey had taken her to see her fathers head. Then that terrible beating she had taken in the center of the court.

He clenched his teeth at the memories. Some **Knight** Trant was. It was people like him and his brother that made Sandor "The Hound" Clegane spit on those anointed fucks. His eyes glanced over at Sansa Stark again. She was still sitting there, her eyes had taken on that familiar distant gaze they got sometimes, usually around the King. He shifted and sat beside, and slightly behind her, placing one of his large, rough hands on her shoulder. Her eyes looked up at him. They were red, and had deep bags under them. This close, and in good light, he could see a small scar from were her lip had once been cut, and her day-old powders were fading to reveal a large, healing bruise on her jaw. He chewed on the inside of his cheek angrily as he brought his hand to her face, very carefully brushing his thumb over the purple skin. Her eye twitched, a subdued wince.

"It will never happen again." He said, he swore. "No one will ever hurt you again. I won't let them."

"Do you promise?" Her voice shook as she said it, barely more than a whisper. It broke his heart. He could see moisture gathering in her eyes. _She hasn't cried for a while._ He thought. _She had to hide her tears so often, I had thought she wasn't able to cry anymore._

"I swear it."

The words came so easily to his lips, that it surprised him. He had never been one for oaths or vows, but he meant it. He was tired of seeing this Little Bird being swatted around like a play thing. This sweet little thing, who had once been so doe-eyed and optimistic about her future, now looking so lost and broken. He had no faith in Knights or songs, or even gods, but she did. And though he would never admit it out loud, that light she had heald had been one of the few things he looked forward to in a day. Yes he would mock her, but he did it because he knew what those dreams and ideals would get her. Disappointment. Just like they had gotten him, as a child.

He watched as she smiled at him, her lip quivering as her shoulders started to shake. Tears fell down her cheeks and he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her thin frame as the sobs escaped her chest. He felt her tears against his own torso, her nails were digging in to his back were she hugged him as she let out all that she had been holding back.

_Never again. _

_**Sansa**_

Despite her initial hesitation at the thought, Sansa was glad that they remained in their hiding spot for some time. After the night of their escape, her blood worsened for a few days, soaking through her garments quickly, at moments the pain in her stomach left her unable to move. If she had still been in the keep, she could have gotten warm sacks of water to hold against her cramps, and take hot baths to soothe her aching back, but here, their resources were limited. But she was thankful that she was not alone.

Despite his lack of knowledge on the subject, Sandor Clegane did everything he could to help her, on her worst days. When her stomach ached to bad she wept, he would hold her, holding a rag soaked in warm water against her stomach to try and ease the pain. She would lay on her stomach, to take the pressure off of her back, and he would come over, without a word, and rub small circles with his large hands, easing away the tension. He would always be the one to go fetch water, or firewood. On the third day, he set a trap with their only length of rope they had. The same day, upon returning from checking it, they feasted on two, hot roasted rabbits.

Sansa did not want to seem a burden, however. Clegane was hardly a servant, in fact she wondered why a man with such a history of harshness and violence, not to mention a remarkably negative view on Knights, was being so remarkably chivalrous. Still, even with his kindness, his temper would flare. He had a habit of brooding, while working or cooking, and if she pried him with too many questions, or an insistence that he let her check his wounds, he would snap at her with harsh words. He never hurt her though. Once or twice he would take hold of her wrist or arm, but never as harshly as he used to, or with enough force to bruise, often it was for the purpose of making her look him in the eye while he chastised her.

Despite her frustrations, she never was angry with him. Usually after some prodding and a small argument, he would let her look at his wounds, let her clean them and the bandages. When she noticed small signs of festering on his side wound, discoloration and a horribly smelling puss seeping from it, he calmed her down, and they washed it again with boiling water, much to his own disdain. The discoloration eventually faded, however, and the puss changed color, and stopped smelling. At first she wasn't sure, but he confirmed, with his plethora of experience in seeing and treating his own wounds, that the most danger was past.

The greatest kindness he gave was at night, however. After that first night they slept separately, with his fever down and both of them having remembered their decencies. At least, that was the plan. Sansa would find herself dreaming. Being caught by Joffreys soldiers, being dragged in front of him and beaten bloody. She would always see The Hound killed by the king, he would make her watch as they took his head, just like they had her father. She dreamed of what would have been her wedding night, being forced to bed by the king, being hurt and beaten. But when she woke, shaking and whimpering, he would come by and sit with her. He would wrap an arm around her shoulders and hush her crying, making soft, sleepy promises that he would never let them hurt her again.

It was nearly a full week after their escape when her bleeding finally stopped. The paines ebbed away, and her bleeding became less and less, until she woke one morning with no smears on her legs. She had let out an audible laugh of relief, knowing she had a reprieve before having to go through it again.

"Now that your blood's done, we can look at moving." Clegane said when she told him. "Stranger's kept himself fed on the grass and leaves, and I'm well on my way to being healed, we need to move, if we want to get you back to your mother and brother."

"Is it safe to go now?" She asked, starting the process of hard washing all of her rags in boiling water. "Will there still be soldiers on the road?"

"For certain." He said, skinning a badger he had manage to catch in his rope snare. "But they should be less now, and more spread out. Besides, I only plan to follow the road for some of it, going through the wilderness can be dangerous, but not more so than the roads these days."

Sansa nodded and sighed, looking up at the wooden ceiling above her. She had grown fond of this tree, oddly enough. It had been a good shelter for the two of them. _I'll see mother again. And Rob._ She smiled at the thought. _I'll be going home, I won't have to fear Joffrey or The Queen anymore. I'll be with my family again…_

"What will you do? Afterwards?" She asked, looking at him. He had grown a bit thinner, though he was still massive in comparison to her slight form.

"Not sure." He shrugged. "Maybe book passage to the free cities. Work as a sellsword."

"You could stay at Winterfell with us." Sansa said, going to sit beside him. "I'm certain Mother and Rob would want to repay you-"

"Aye, they will." He scoffed. "They'll tell me thank you and offer me courtesies, probably some money, then they'll tell the dog to be gone."

She gaped at him.

"They would never-"

"What reason would they have to trust me?" He asked, stopping his work and looking at her. His hands were covered in blood from the food that he held in one hand, his knife in the other.

"You saved me." She said blankly.

"Saved? Or Abducted?" He asked her. She frowned, confused. He chuckled and shook his head. "Still such a naive little bird. The Kingslayer is hated throughout the realm for breaking his oath to protect The Mad King, yes?" She nodded. "Now I wasn't there, but I remember hearing of how The Mad King liked to burn people alive in his throne room. He would torture and kill innocent people, for nothing more than fun and his own paranoia. Anyone else had killed him, they would be sung about as a hero, one of those **True Knights** you love. But, Jamie Lannister swore an oath. And now that makes him one of the least trusted people in all of the Seven kingdoms, despite the fact that he saved hundreds if not millions of people by doing so. Now I hold no love for the Lannisters, this is proof of that." She motioned to her. "But I know how people see things. If Lannister is a traitor and someone to not be trusted for what he did, do you think an honorable family like yours would trust a Dog who bit his master? Who went craven at a battle and fled with their daughter in his arms? They would not see me as a hero any more than they see The Kingslayer as one. I would be a coward and a traitor, who brought their daughter back as a shield for himself, and as a ransom demand."

Sansa just stared at him. His eyes were sad and dark in the firelight. He looked her straight in the face as he told her all of this, not even a hint of anger in his voice.

"But…"She wanted to say he was wrong, but when put like that, the point hit home harder than she could have ever imagined. "If I told them? If I explained?"

"They might believe it, coming from your lips." He said with a shrug. "Or they may assume I tricked you, or threatened you to say that. I have a reputation for violence, as you well know."

_But nothing like your brothers._ She hung her head and sighed, her red hair falling over her face. She had been so happy, but now she felt a small pain in her heart. _Does that mean after everything, I'll never see him again?_ It was selfish, she knew. He likely had no desire to stay in Winterfell anyway, a dog surrounded by wolves.

Calloused fingers brushed the hair away from her face and she looked up to meet his eyes. She had no trouble looking at him now, though she still turned her head when he got angry. The scars were nothing to her, she hardly even noticed them, or how the burnt side of his mouth would twitch, but his eyes still held such anger and violence in them, that she could not keep his gaze at times.

"It will be some time before that, Little Bird." He said quietly. "By the time we get to your family, you will most likely be more than tired of seeing my face."

"No!" She snapped at him, her stomach clenching as she grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand away from her face. "I could never be…."

He tilted his head, and she could see him working through something in his mind. An amused smile spread across his burnt face and he twisted his hand, to where he was able to grab hers.

"You'll never be tired of seeing me?" He asked, amused. "Why, Little Bird, you are so kind."

He pulled her closer and sat up on his knees. He was looking down at her now, his hair falling in front of his face. She raised her other hand to try and put some distance between him, but he grabbed that one too, his amazing strength easily locking her in place. She swallowed, looking at him.

"That night, you thought I meant to have you." He said slowly.

"You did mean to have me." She shot back. "You admitted it yourself."

"Aye, I did." He laughed. "And yet when I asked you to lay with me, you complied with no argument. Could it be the little bird was hoping?"

Her face flushed. She had hoped he would have forgotten at least some of that, with his fever. She swallowed.

"I...you were hurt and…"

"Aye, I was hurt."

"I thought I...that you…"

"That I what?" He leaned closer, looking her right in the eyes. "That I had the energy to make love after that? Or that I would get angry if you refused me?"

She bit her lip and shook her head.

"I will never hurt you, little bird. I can promise that." He said, letting the grip on her wrists lessen. "But you need to start being honest with me."

"I am!" She gasped. He chuckled again.

"Are you?" He let go of one of her wrists and put his hand behind her head. "What did you want, that night, little bird? There was something hanging there, but I couldn't see it. What was it?"

"I...I don't remember." She stammered out. _I can't tell him!_

She saw his jaw clench as he ground his teeth. He leaned forward and pushed her back onto the floor, leaning over her and pinning her down.

"A dog can smell a lie, remember?" He growled. "And you are still a very bad lier."

She stared up at him, her face burning hot. _How is he so good at telling when I lie? _She swallowed and bit her lip, looking away from him.

"I...I can't tell you…" She mumbled, embarrassed. He shifted on top of her, sitting up more but keeping her pinned, all of his weight resting on his knees.

"Why not?" His voice was rough but teasing. It made her go even redder.

"Because it's embarrassing…" She admitted, not meeting his eyes. He laughed loudly and pulled her hands above her head, now pinning them down with only one of his large hands. The other hand pushed her hair away from her face and turned her head to look at him.

"Should I make guesses then?" He leaned forward, his hair falling over her to frame her own face, his hand slid from her cheek down her neck.

She whimpered. He was teasing her. On a normal day she would have suspected he was drunk, but it was actually very apparent that this was the most sober she had ever seen him. She sighed, knowing he would keep pressing her until she told him, and she mumbled it out, just barely under her breath.

"What was that?" He asked. "I couldn't hear you, little bird."

She flushed and pouted, looking away from him again as she said louder.

"I had thought….hoped that you were going to kiss me…"

She felt that she would die of embarrassment right then and there. She sounded so childish, the silly little bird with her silly little romantic songs in her head. She wasn't looking at his face, and she just waited for him to mock her for her childishness.

His weight shifted on top of her, and she felt him against her as he leaned down on to his elbow, his body was now pressed against hers.

"Why didn't you just say so, little bird?"

She felt dry lips press lightly against her cheek. She blinked and turned to him, just in time for his mouth to touch hers. She took in a small, squeaky gasp of air just before it happened, but then she closed her eyes.

His lips were very dry, and it felt strange were the scars were, but it was not unpleasant. In fact, the more she leaned in to his kiss, it was very nice. He released her hands and she reached up, cupping his face as his hands found themselves in her hair. A few moments later, he pulled away, looking at her. She was still flushed, and she was breathing a little heavily, but she felt a small smile twitch on to her lips.

_My first kiss…._ She thought. _My first real kiss…._

"Have I made up for not doing it that night, little bird?" He asked. His own face seemed to have a twinge of pink to it. She bit her lip nervously before shrugging, not bothering to remove her hands from his face.

"I'm not sure, it was so sudden…"She said, silently wandering were this little bead of courage in her gut was coming from. "I might need to try again to decide…"

He laughed loudly, that strong, barking laughter she had heard on a few occasions. Though the smile he had wrinkled the scars on his face, it did seem to light up those dark, angry eyes of his.

"You certainly are something, little bird." She chuckled out and leaned back in, slower this time, and she raised to meet him as their lips touched kiss was still sweet, but deeper. His hand held her at the waist, pulling her up easily as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Something about this felt right, like it was something she knew would, or could, happen all along.

He pulled away and sat up off of her, holding a hand out to pull her back up into a sitting position. Flushed and embarrassed, Sansa could not help but laugh a little at the situation.

"I should probably make some sort of apology for that…" Clegane said, sounding slightly awkward. "First time kissing a princess though."

"Don't apologize, don't you dare." Sansa laughed, flustering to fix her hair as his words sank in and she blinked. "Princess?"

"Well that wolf boy of a brother of yours is calling himself a king now, isn't he?" He frowned and rolled his shoulders, absently rubbing at the healing wound on his side. "That makes you a Princess."

"I guess I hadn't really thought about it…" She sighed, squinting as she noticed some badger blood in her hair. _Certainly no gentleman, kissing a Lady, a Princess, with gory hands._ "For the last...year and a half, I've been so focused on how I'd survive Joffrey, that I hadn't really thought of myself as anything other than a prisoner."

"Well, now you have time to think." He shrugged, picked up his knife and went back to butchering their dinner. "Though it will be some time before you get yourself a nice little tiara, Princess. And don't expect me to start calling you, Highness either."

"No, I'd never dream of it." Her voice was dry but light as she licked her lips a bit, his taste still there. "Though...that wasn't fair."

He turned and raised an eyebrow.

"Thought you said I didn't need to apologize." He scoffed. "Said I had better not dare to."

"Not for the kisses." She smiled and poured some water in to their pot, before going to start trying to tear and break up some of the wild carrots they had managed to find. "But...it wasn't right for you to do that...when your going to leave later."

She heard him sigh and she met his eyes as he started breaking apart the different parts of the animal.

"Even if I did stay, then what?" His voice sounded sad. "I have no title, no land, no inheritance, those all went to Gregor. I got less than a copper to my name. Not like we would ever be able to get married or anything, even if I hadn't given that up to be a kingsguard, though I suppose that doesn't matter anymore. I would most likely be put in the position of a guard somewhere, probably offered a knighthood too, ironically enough, by your Kingly brother. And I would have to sit back and watch, again, as you get traded off to the first noble boy your family saw fit. As shitty as it is, little bird, that is the life of a noble woman."

"Even ladys share beds outside of marriage." Sansa spoke without thinking. She knew they existed, though they were less common, or at least more secret. "D...depending on the husband it may even be allowed, so long as no bastards came of it."

"So you would have me as a kept man?" He smirked. "I don't know, little bird. Nobility and marriages are always so complicated, and I'm just a dog. I'm happiest when I'm useful, and hopefully at the feet of someone who won't kick me all the damn time."

"You deserve better than to be treated like a dog…" Sansa sighed. "But...if that makes you happy. When we get there, at least let me talk to my mother and brother about it? If possible I would want you stay close...even if your not my...my lover."

"You know your song stutters when you're embarrassed?" He raised an eyebrow. She sighed at him and he laughed. "I'm not gonna stop you from talking to em, just don't get your hopes up." She nodded and looked away, folding her hands together as she worked on getting their dinner ready.

They spent most of dinner in silence, eating out of their one pot using the singular set of utensils. The food was bland and mostly tasteless, but it was hot and it filled her near to full by the time they had finished eating. The Hound rinsed out the pot and went outside to make water, as well as check up on Stranger, while she was put in charge of getting their sleeping spots ready.

Folding up the bags in to pillows, and using their one blanket and her cloak, she started to lay out the two spots, that would normally be on opposite sides of the fire, which they now let burn low while they slept. As she finished making his spot and went to turn to her own an idea came to her mind. _He likes to mock me, tease me._ She smiled to herself. _If he takes me seriously we may end up...but that might be okay. At least….at least it would be my choice. And it won't be the King. _

And so she started by laying her cloak down, next to The Hound's blanket. After setting up the spots, she made sure everything was packed back up into either in to a saddlebag, or was ready to be packed up first thing in the morning. At this point, they may leave at any moment, so she figured it would be best to stay ready. She was just starting to lay in her spot when Clegane returned, and he stopped.

She looked at him and saw him staring at the double sleeping spot she had made. His eyes went to her and he sat the pot down near the rest of the stuff, before sitting on the floor, on top of his blanket.

"What's this, little bird?" He asked, not teasing, but sounding almost suspicious.

"What does it look like?" She asked, adjusting her bag-pillow.

"Depends." He grunted a bit. "Are you tired?"

She raised an eyebrow of her own.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because if your tired, then it looks like your feeling cold." He smiled a little and slid next to her, sliding his hand on to her back. "If your not tired, then this looks an awful lot like an invitation."

His touch, as light as a feather on her back, sent shivers down her spine. _What's wrong with me?_ She thought as she moved a bit closer to him. _This is very unlady-like. You can't give him your maidenhood, your not married! And why do you want to, all of a sudden?! _ Was that what she wanted? As he pulled her closer and ran his fingers through her hair she had to consider. _You spent so much time afraid of him, why are you willing to do this?_ His lips grazed her ear as he held her against his chest, she leaned in to his touch. _You were just talking of keeping him as a lover, as if it was a given. You barely know him! _Her eyes fluttered shut as his lips moved to her neck, his hands rubbing her shoulders slowly.

_But I want him…._ She did. Why, or how, she wasn't sure, but the ache forming between her legs told her the truth. _I want him to be mine. He's always been kind, in his own way. Harsh and rough, but kind. He didn't need to tell me about his brother, but he did. He protected me, with harsh words, and stopped me from doing stupid things. _He pulled her into his lap, his arms wrapping around her waist. _He used his sway with the king, to help me avoid punishment. He saved me from the mob, and as harsh as it was, he taught me the reality of this world. _

She looked up at him as one of his hands slid up and down her leg. He was looking back at her, his jaw was clenched, but not in anger. His eyes were searching, wandering. She felt his fingers teas at the hem of her chemise. He was asking.

She smiled and put her hands on his face, pulling him into another deep kiss.


	5. Chapter 5

**Authors note: WARNING, ADULT CONTENT AHEAD. So for some heads up, I am going off of the rules laid out in the books when it comes to ages and how the body works. The whole "Maidenhead" thing is not a real life thing anymore, it was once just an excuse really for men not to care about properly preparing and pleasing their ladies. A woman should never bleed during intercourse, even if she is a virgin, while there is a higher chance of it the first time. Please, bear that in mind people. Now enjoy the story and please leave a review! **

_**Chapter 5: Show me how. **_

_**Sansa**_

Their hollowed tree was hot, sweat was pouring down Sansa's back as she leaned into Sandor's embrace, her mouth pressed firmly against was still sitting in his lap as his hands slid up and down her back and her legs, her own arms wrapped around him to support herself as he kissed her.

_This is amazing…_ She thought hazily as one of his hands slid from her leg to her bottom, pulling her even closer. _Amazing and wrong. We aren't even married…._

But even with her mind reminding her of the moral implications of her actions, she found herself making a small noise when his lips grazed down her neck, her back arching slightly in his arms as he worked his way down her collar bone. One of his hands slid up under her shirt, pressing flat against her stomach as he leaned her backwards, letting her rest gently on the wooden floor near the fire. She watched as he sat up, pulling the tunic off over his head, and exposing his muscled chest.

As he leaned back over her, she let her hands slide up to his face, were she held him for a moment, her eyes on his before letting both her eyes and hands slide down. Thick, hard muscles under rough scarred, calloused skin. His neck and chest had heavy black hair that trailed all the way down past the hem of his trousers. The scars that had once scared her so badly went past his face, on to his neck and a little bit of his shoulder, tapering off in to dark skin.

Her hands slid down his shoulders and arms, fingers slowly massaging the muscle, before she moved to that chest and stomach. She had never explored a man like this before, sure she had seen her brothers shirtless on occasion, but it was nothing like this. She flushed when her eyes traveled down even more and caught a glimpse at the bulge in his trousers.

_What does it even look like?_ She asked herself and swallowed hard. _I...what does it feel like? _

A soft chuckle drew her away from her thoughts and she saw him looking at her with and amused smile, lust making his eyes a little hazy. She blushed deeper and moved her hands away from his chest, resting them beside her.

"You don't have to stop." He rasped, brushing his fingers against her cheek. She chuckled and bit her lip nervously.

"I just...I've never…" She said, feeling her voice crack. He smiled and put an arm around her waist.

"Here…" He rolled over, pulling her on top of him as he laid on his back, looking up at her. She adjusted to that she was straddling his hips, her weight supported on her knees. She looked down at him as he folded his fingers into her own, pulling her hands down to his chest.

"It's okay to explore, little bird." He released her hands and cupped her face. "At your own leisure."

She flushed and nodded, looking down at him as her hands rubbed his chest. She had never seen him like this before. For the longest time he had been an impossibly imposing person, always tall and clad in armor, a scowl on his horrible face. Now he looked almost vulnerable. On his back, resting his hands on her knees as she was given free reign over his body. The heat that came between her legs increased as she felt him against her, her body rocking slightly as she leaned forward to run her fingers through his thin hair.

The soft moan she heard from him when she moved made her smile, and she rocked her hips slowly, feeling that pressure there as she continued to familiarise herself with his body. His hands did not move, though they did clench slightly on her knees as she felt a shiver go up her spine.

_Gods….is this really so wrong?_ She asked and stopped moving, biting her lip.

"What is it?" His voice was deeper than usual. She looked away from him for a moment before resting her hand on his.

"Can you….touch me?" She asked, her voice sounding thin in her own ears. The soft smile on his face helped her relax as his hands slid up and down her thighs.

"Where would you like me to touch you?" He asked, gently sliding his hands up her hips, his fingers prodding underneath her shirt.

She blushed deeper and sat back on his legs, her previous shyness returning. She took a moment to compose herself before bringing her hands up to the laces on her chemise. She couldn't maintain eye contact with him while she untied the delicate strings, but she would cast quick glances at him while she slowly loosened the bit of clothing. As the shirt started to open, she saw the heat there in his dark eyes, she saw hunger. In a way it was more terrifying than ever, but at the same time she felt a small pang of pride as she let the material fall of her shoulders and onto the floor next to them. His eyes roamed over her as his hands slid up her stomach, and her ribs, one thumb gently brushing against her nipple, sending a small shock down her body.

She had feared rough hands, but his were gentle, fingers like butterfly kisses along her skin as his hands explored her body, much as hers had his. She had never been touched like this before, each new sensation being strange, terrifying, and exciting all at once. When he sat up slightly and gently licked at her nipple with his rough tongue, she let out a slightly louder moan, and that seemed to make him happy.

She wasn't sure when she ended up back on her back, but she didn't care. His mouth traveled down her neck and collarbone, between her breasts and on to her stomach, all the while his hands worked to please, teasing at her breasts, massaging away any tension in her legs, or just slowly running through her hair. When his fingers brushed into the hem of her trousers she bit her lip, taking in a deep breath.

"May I?" He asked, and after a moment, she nodded slowly and watched as he untied her laces, pulling the soft leather off of her legs, along with her undergarments. She was completely exposed now, and the reality of it made her self conscious. His eyes roamed over her again, his hands rubbing against her legs, brushing against the inside of her thighs.

_He's already between my legs…_ She realised, noticing now that he was, infact, kneeling, her legs opened on either side of him. _Soon he'll…_

"Um…" She stammered a little and his eyes met hers. "W...will it hurt?"

He blinked and gave a small smile, his hands moving away from her womanhood and to her hands, leaning forward so that he could look down at her directly.

"Taking your maidenhead would, yes." He said softly. "But I have no intention of doing that."

She blinked, confused.

"You mean your not…" He shook his head. "But...why?"

"Because you are Lady Sansa Stark." He said quietly. "It would not do for you to lose your virginity to a lowly dog."

"But your not-" She protested, but he put his fingers to her lips.

"I know what I am." He said with a chuckle. "And I know that what we are doing now is already crossing several lines. But that is something that must be saved for your husband, someday. Besides, it would be hard for you to find a husband of any worth or honor, if you already have a bastard."

She blinked at him and sighed, chewing the inside of her cheek. _I don't know if I'm relieved or disappointed._

"Do you want to stop here?" He asked. She frowned.

"I thought we weren't doing that…" She was very confused. He chuckled.

"I won't take you, little bird, but I will please you, if you desire." He said, his smile almost wicked. "I know ways to make you feel good, without needing to enter you."

Her face turned beat red. She was confused by what he meant, but very curious. She let a small smile come on to her face as she bit her lip.

"Okay…s...show me then…" She said, not sounding as sultry as she had hoped. He seemed to get the message though as his fingers pressed against her womanhood. She gasped slightly as he rubbed her, his fingers tentatively teasing at her entrance. He bent down to continue kissing and licking her body and she closed her eyes, letting herself enjoy his touch.

Cool air brushed her skin as he slowly went down her body, and when she felt the scruff of his beard against her inner thigh she had just a moment to look down in shock before his hot wet tongue pressed against her, slipping just far enough inside to make her back arch and her knees nearly come together on his head. His hands kept her thighs apart, rubbing and massaging at the tensing muscles as he continued to lick her, her own body reacting to the sensation against her will.

_I knew some whores use their mouths, from what I heard the boys talking about..._She thought as her body rocked against him. _But this is…..Gods…._She felt something rising in her body, it felt like a pulsing energy that grew more and more violent as he pleased her, his hands moving to work on other parts of her body. She felt as if she was going to explode when he pressed against something, and her body gave a violent buck, her voice calling out loudly in the cold air. Her hands went to him, clenching in his hair as he continued, working faster now, and with more force.

_What's happening?_ She thought as her body continued to rock, unable to keep her voice quiet. She was a little frightened at the loss of control, but it felt so good. She moved to find his hand, quickly grabbing a hold of it, and forcing her fingers together with his, to which he complied easily.

When it came it felt like a mass release of pressure in her entire body, like an explosion somewhere so deep she wasn't even sure were it was. Her body shuddered and her voice got caught in her throat, all of her muscles tense as he massaged it away, slowly bringing her down from the sudden and amazing high.

She lay still, breathing hard as he rolled on to his side, sliding back up to lay beside her, still holding her hand. She felt fingers in her hair, and his lips on her forehead and cheek. She turned into one of the kisses, soft and tired. _I can taste myself_ She thought, though she wasn't sure if that was actually true. She blinked her eyes open and looked at him. He was breathing hard to, though not as hard as she was, and he was smiling, soothing her calmly.

"Are you okay, Little Bird?" He asked and she nodded slowly, turning onto her side to lean against him.

"That was…what was that?" She asked. He held her against his chest and smiled.

"That was you finishing." He explained and she blushed.

"W...what about you?" She asked. She could still feel him hard against her thigh. He swallowed and took in a breath.

"I'll be fine." He said. "Don't worry about me. You should probably rest."

She nodded, feeling a new type of exhaustion sweep over her. He pulled the blanket over her and laid down with her, holding her against his chest. She could hear his fast, but steady, heartbeat as she easily slipped off to sleep.


End file.
